


Revenge Is Best Served Cold. With Beer.

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode: s05e04 Controlling Interest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to 5x04, in which I take a sip of Mozzie's solution. And so does Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge Is Best Served Cold. With Beer.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [china_shop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/gifts).



  
It was evening, and Neal and Mozzie were both sitting around Neal's kitchen table. The two criminals were pouring over chapter thirteen of the Codex. Those pages held whatever Hagen was after, and they intended to get there first.  
  
Neal had never felt so good. He was a criminal. Not an 'ex' one, not a 'reformed' one. A criminal, with no additives.  It felt so liberating to say it. No more doubts, no more anxiety, no more angst and guilt and blame. He was reborn. A new Neal. "Before Neal" had been beholden to the FBI. He had sat at this very table, pouring over the copied manuscript he'd stolen under the Feds' noses, looking for ways to get back at Hagen. "After Neal" was pouring over the copied manuscript he'd stolen under the Feds' noses.. Whatever. But, there was a  _difference_ , damnit. He was now doing it as a  _free_  man. On the inside.  
  
And he had remembered to lock the door this time. Because real criminals don't keep their doors open for any passing FBI agent who wants to climb up four flights of stairs just so they can poke their nose in his business.  
  
Which was why Peter found the door locked when he got up to Neal's landing. "Neal!" He knocked, "open the door."  
  
Signaling Mozzie to hide the codex pages, Neal approached the door. "Coming!" He waited till he got the all-clear signal from Moz before he opened the door. "Hey. Peter."  
  
"Neal." Peter's gaze moved from his CI to his more criminal friend. "Mozzie."  
  
"What are you doing here?" Peter was the ASAC now. No reason to drop by with new cases anymore.  
  
"I thought we could pick up where we left off."  
  
"Where we left what off?"  
  
"Our conversation, last time you decided to drop by my house." Neal had shown up, drugged out of his mind, confessing to past crimes.  
  
"You know," Mozzie spoke up, "I think this is my cue to leave."  
  
"Not so fast." Mozzie had been the reason for Neal's drugged state. Peter wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily. "You're next on the list." He moved past Neal, using the opportunity to examine the apartment. Besides, those two were up to something. He could smell it.  
  
Neal had hoped against hope that Peter would forget that conversation. "Peter, I had no idea what I was saying."  
  
Peter thought of telling Neal that drugging yourself was no excuse. That he'd just closed a case by getting a drugged confession. He would have also liked to tell Neal that maybe next time he should think twice before he doses himself with untested medication, based on the highly illogical medical theories of a certifiable nut, and then runs to a Federal officer, of all people, to babble his head off about crimes nobody had yet heard of. It was part of a long list of things he would have  _liked_  to tell Neal. Instead, he just sighed. "That's a whole other discussion we need to have, sometime."  
  
He stopped by the kitchen table, his fingers dancing on the table top. "Look, the past is the past. I'm not going to chase you for crimes you committed as a minor."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"-But I think we need to have a talk about Siegel."  
  
"Siegel." Neal repeated carefully.  
  
"Yeah." Peter pulled out a chair, and motioned Neal to do the same. "I know you were in the neighborhood before he was shot. Was he following you?"  
  
"I.. I don't know." And that was the truth.  
  
"Neal." Peter fixed Neal with his gaze. "What were you doing in Bushwick?"  
  
"Bushwick."  
  
Peter sighed. Neal was so predictable sometimes, and right now he was clearly trying to buy time. "Yes, Bushwick. What were you doing there?"  
  
"Walking?"   
  
"Alone?"  
  
Neal shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said I was?"  
  
Mozzie had meanwhile approached the table, wine and beer bottles in hand. He poured Neal and himself a glass of wine, handing the bottle over to the agent. "Neal is taking the fifth."  
  
"Oh, oh, taking the fifth?" Peter laughed with incredulity.  "You're back to being his lawyer, now?  Had enough of playing doctor?"  Then he shook his head and reached for the beer. "You know what? Fine. You don't want to talk. My theory," he took a long drag from the bottle, "Siegel was following you, and he saw you doing something you shouldn't have. And he got himself into trouble trying to figure out what." At Neal's lack of response, he chuckled. "Don't have anything to say to that?"  
  
"What do you want me to say? I didn't see Siegel when I was there."  
  
"Who did you meet there?" Peter didn't need to be a genius to realize Neal had met with _someone_. Either that, or he'd made a drop. His CI had walked through the neighborhood, stopped by the bridge for a few minutes, then walked back. Peter had stopped by that area, and hadn't found anything.  
  
A few years ago, he'd have pulled Neal into an interrogation room for this. But now? "Did you know Siegel had put his former CI in jail?"  
  
Neal shook his head.  
  
"Catching you was one of my proudest achievements. It still is. But things have changed. We've gone through so much, you and I. We've laid our lives on the line for each other. You can't ignore that."  
  
Neal toyed with his glass.  He had no idea where Peter was going with this. "I'm not, Peter."  
  
"I brought in Siegel because I thought you needed a handler who could keep you in line. You're so..  _impulsive_ sometimes. You don't  _think_  before you  _act_."  
  
"OK, Peter-"  
  
"But I don't want to send you to jail, Neal. I really don't. And I don't want anybody else to put you in jail either." Peter raised the bottle to his lips again, but stopped to add, "Though you probably deserve it", before drinking. "So I didn't wish him bad, certainly not to get murdered like that on the street, alone, in a strange city, but it was so awfully convenient. And I feel so bad for him, but I feel relieved too, because now he won't put you in jail." Peter sighed with finality. "Because he's dead."  
  
Somehow the thread of conversation had shifted, and glad as he was that he wasn't at the pointy end of a Peter interrogation, Neal had no idea what had happened. He shot Mozzie a troubled look, only to realize that his friend was staring at the agent in fascination, a half-smile forming on his lips. He glanced back at Peter, then to Mozzie. "Moz, a word, please."  
  
Mozzie held up a hand. "Hold on."  
  
" _Now_." Hauling the other man to his feet, Neal dragged Moz over to the bookshelf area. He kept his voice low as he asked, "What did you do?"  
  
Moz blinked at him. "What do you mean?"  
  
Both men turned to look at Peter, who was now busy counting his fingers.  
  
Neal closed his eye for a second, but when he opened them, Peter was still there, obviously not himself.  "Don't tell me you're not responsible for this."  
  
"I may," Mozzie relented, "be running another experiment."  
  
The sinking feeling in Neal's gut finally reached bottom. "You drugged a Federal agent."  
  
"He took away everything I had, Neal."  
  
Neal couldn't believe it. "You  _drugged_  a  _Federal_  agent. I'm going to be in so much trouble. That's it. I'm going back to jail." And then realization dawned. "Assuming Elizabeth won't kill me first. Oh, God."  
  
"Neal, you're not going to die, and you're not going to jail-"  
  
"Moz-"  
  
"-Unless somebody finds out." Which earned him a hard look from Neal. "Look, the deed's done. I'd say you have five, ten minute tops before the window of opportunity closes forever."  
  
" _What_  window of opportunity?!"  
  
"Hey." Peter had ambled over to where Neal and Moz were holding their whispered conversation. "If you guys are going to talk about me behind my back, you should at least have the decency to do it  _behind my back_. Right?". He raised the beer bottle to his lips, but Neal grabbed it out of his hand, with a quick 'let's get this out of the way, shall we'.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Neal guided Peter over to the sofa and helped him settle down. Then he turned to Moz. "Don't think we've finished this discussion."  
  
Mozzie brushed that away. "So.." He sat down on the nearby armchair. "Any interesting cases lately, Suit?"  
  
"Oh, I had a very interesting accounting scam lined up. But nooooooooooo.. it wasn't interesting enough for Neal here. He had to go for the psycho therapist who stole two million. Which, by the way," Peter wagged a finger at Neal, "I think you stole."  
  
Neal managed a faint chuckle at that. "Imagine that."  
  
"Accounting scams are fun."  
  
Neal snorted, despite himself.  
  
"Don't knock it. But then.. Things used to be so much more fun when we were partners, you know? Coffee in the mornings, and meeting up for lunch."  
  
Now it was Mozzie's turn to glance at Neal. "Didn't you guys ever do real work?"  
  
"-Conning the criminals. Because no matter how annoying you get," Peter raised a finger at Neal, "I know that I can trust you. When it counts, you're on my side." He paused a beat, collecting his scrambled thoughts. "So it was fun at first to be promoted, get some recognition."  
  
"And good seats at the Yankees game," Neal added.  
  
"Excellent seats. But now I spend my days filling out paperwork, and going over reports and signing forms. 109As and 109Bs and 109Cs, and don't get me started on the 22 series and the IS9 through 20, and-"  
  
Neal leaned towards Mozzie to whisper, "I think he's just making it up now."  
  
"-It never ends. And the people! So much complaining and whining. And I thought I had my hands full as your handler." Peter turned to Mozzie, "This is like handling  _fifty_  Neals. Each one with their problems, and they want this, and that, and how can you ever get anything done this way? And why did I  _ever_  let Diana take time off?" Peter threw his hands up in frustration. "A baby! Since when is that an excuse for a vacation? Oh, I know. I'll call her."  
  
He reached for his phone, but Neal was quicker, slipping the device out of his fingers, before he could dial. "Hey! You can't do that. No, wait. You should call her. Tell her to come back."  
  
"I will," Neal assured him.  
  
"What about the cases you closed recently?" Mozzie made another attempt to steer the conversation, trying to sound oh-so-nonchalant, but doing a very bad job of it. "Like Little Star?"  
  
Lucky for him, Peter was off his game.  
  
"Little Star?" Peter laughed, "We've got a whole warehouse full of his stuff now." Mozzie's eyes went wide. "We cleaned him out. Right, Neal?"  
  
"Yeah." Neal answered, somewhat less enthusiastically.  
  
But it seemed to satisfy Peter. He looked about the apartment. "We solved so many cases here, didn't we?"  
  
Neal turned to follow Peter's line of sight.  "We did."  
  
"You know, what I really like about you? Every time I think I got you figured out, you manage to surprise me. So.." Peter took a deep breath and looked at the two men, "what have you two been up to?"  
  
Neal and Mozzie exchanged a glance.  
  
  
\---------  
  
Peter woke up with a long, drawn-out yawn. It took him a moment to realize where he was: Neal's sofa. What the hell was he doing here? He glanced at his watch, a yelp escaping his lips. "Elizabeth is going to kill me."  
  
"Better you than me."  
  
"What?"  
  
Neal, sitting across from Peter, hadn't even realized he'd spoken aloud. "What? Oh, nothing."  
  
Peter struggled to his feet. He had come here to have a talk with Neal, though he couldn't remember having one. "What happened?"  
  
"You fell asleep. I didn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep. Long day at the office?"  
  
"You could say that." Peter stretched. He must have been more tired than he thought he was. He was still feeling fuzzy. "I'll see you tomorrow?"  
  
Neal smiled easily. "Bright and early."  
  
"Good."  
  
Neal closed the door behind Peter with a thoughtful look.  He had already poured the remains of the offending liquid down the drain, and had gotten rid of the bottle.  But he still didn't know whether he should get upset at Mozzie, or be thankful.


End file.
